


Peer Review

by pipermca



Series: Sparkr Stories [6]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Academic Convention, As many jokes about the scientific method as I could cram into a smutty fic, Hook-Up, Impersonation, M/M, Masturbation, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, dating app
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-02-28 18:06:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18761635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipermca/pseuds/pipermca
Summary: Starscream does not need a date. He doesn’t need a frag, either. But when Skywarp creates a fake Sparkr profile for Starscream to get him a date – without his permission! – Starscream is sure that nothing good could come of it.





	1. Introduction

“You did **what**??” 

“Look, it’s not like you were going to go find yourself a date. You’ve been so busy and stressed out with your research, so I did all the work for you... All you’ll need to do is show up!” Skywarp seemed to be oblivious to Starscream’s rising anger. He waved his comm pad at Starscream and said, “All I need to know is what would be a good day and time for you, and I’ll let him know.”

“Let me get this straight.” Starscream paced back and forth across the living area, never removing his optics from Skywarp. “You took it upon yourself to create a fraudulent profile for me on this – this dating site...”

“It’s not a site, it’s an app. And it’s not fraudulent! Not totally... I used your actual stats and a real photo of you, see?” Skywarp said, trying to show Starscream the screen.

“...And then you used this **fraudulent** profile in an attempt to lure unsuspecting mechs into going on a date with me?” Starscream knew the volume of his voice was rising, but he was so astonished, so appalled, and so angry that he could not help it. “What made you think that this would be in any way, shape, or form acceptable to me?”

“Star, you haven’t been on a date in ages,” Skywarp said. 

“That’s because I haven’t **wanted** to go on a date!” Starscream snapped. “I haven’t been **looking** for a date! And I certainly don’t want to **go** on a date with some random mech you found!”

“He’s not random! He thought your profile looked good, and I’ve been chatting with him a bit for you...”

“Wait. You’re actively masquerading as me?” Starscream’s tone was incredulous. “You didn’t just create a fake profile of me, you’re actually chatting with mechs while pretending to be me?”

“Well, now you’re just making it sound bad,” Skywarp said petulantly. “And I was just trying to do you a favour.”

“A favour that I never asked for, nor wanted!” 

Skywarp cast a despairing look at Thundercracker, who had raised the data pad he was reading so that it completely hid his face. “C’mon, TC, back me up here. Tell Star that he’s desperately in need of a good frag.”

“I am **not** in **need** –“ Starscream sputtered.

Thundercracker shook his helm, still behind his novel. “Nope. Leave me out of this, Warp. I had nothing to do with this. This was all you.” 

Looking up at Starscream, who was now standing over him and glaring, Skywarp tried again. “It might be fun! Look...” He held up his comm pad again in an attempt to get Starscream to look at it. “He’s not that bad looking. And he’s a scientist –“

“He’s a **scientist**?!” Starscream screeched. He snatched the comm pad from Skywarp’s hand and scanned the screen. “Even better! Just what I need, my peers thinking I’m whoring myself out on the net.”

Skywarp exvented dramatically, rolling his optics. “It’s not whoring. It just a way to meet people. Everyone’s using it, Star.”

“ **I** am not using it. And I don’t need my fellow scientists thinking that I do.” He glared at the photo of the mech that Skywarp had been chatting with, pretending to be him. Starscream had to admit that the mech wasn’t all that bad looking, but he really wasn’t his type. Then he looked through the messages that Skywarp had been exchanging with the mech, and snarled. “Primus, Skywarp! Look at the grammar you’ve been using to talk to this mech. You’re making me look like an uneducated moron.” He read a bit further, then threw the comm pad back at Skywarp. “Not to mention that this mech lives in Iacon. That’s a little far to go on just a ‘date’.”

“What? He does?” Skywarp juggled the comm pad as he caught it, and frowned at the screen. “Aw, slag. How’d I miss that?”

“Unbelievable.” Starscream shook his helm, then held up a hand. “No, never mind... totally believable.” He pointed at the comm pad. “Now, I am going to watch as you apologize to this mech, tell him that you were actually posing as someone else - without their permission! - and then you are **deleting** that profile.”

* * *

Starscream slammed the door to his room and threw his data pads on his berth. He covered his face with his hands and took a full vent cycle to calm the rage he had been fighting.

Trinemates. Why, why, **why** did his family need to be traditionalists?

Slightly more settled than when he’d entered the room, Starscream lowered his hands, collected the data pads from his berth, and stacked them neatly on his desk instead. He had intended to review a few more results before going into recharge, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on the task tonight.

Skywarp. Pretending to be him! Ridiculous. Starscream snarled silently again, picturing the black and purple mech’s look of confusion at Starscream’s reaction to his fraud. 

Thundercracker was so much more reasonable than Skywarp was, and usually kept his mate in line. Starscream knew that if it hadn’t been for Thundercracker’s moderating influence (on both of Skywarp and himself, Starscream admitted), Starscream would have broken the trine vorn ago… Never mind his family’s wishes.

And Skywarp had done all of this simply because he thought Starscream needed a frag. Ugh. 

Standing in front of his mirror, Starscream studied his own reflection. He admired the shape of his helm, the sleek lines of his wings, and the aerodynamics of his canopy and turbines. He didn’t need a frag. “Needing a frag” was for mechs who were slaves to their base coding, not for someone with his intelligence and sophistication.

Besides, if he did want a night of fun (which he didn’t – he just didn’t have time for that right now), he could just go out and find someone willing. It wouldn’t be hard. Who could resist someone who looked as good as him?

Starscream ran his hands down the sides of his canopy, lifting his wings slightly at the sensation. His optics unfocused slightly, trying to remember the last time that someone else had touched him that way. 

All right… Maybe it had been a while. But it wasn’t a **need**.

It would just be nice.

Shaking his helm, Starscream scowled. No. He certainly didn’t need it with some random mech that Skywarp had dredged up from some other city. 

Starscream circled his digits around the edges of his turbines, then trailed them down his sides, skimming the transformation seams. He flattened his palms against his shapely hips and slid them over his interface panel.

It wasn’t a need because Starscream was perfectly happy taking care of himself, thank you very much. No time wasted on the unwilling, no awkward conversations afterwards, no messy entanglements with clingy mechs who just can’t let go.

He brought one hand back up, stretching to drag a claw up the top edge of his wing. It quivered at his touch, and a thin whine escaped his vocalizer.

Fine, it had been a while. And after this evening’s uproar, an overload just might help him get into recharge more easily.

Starscream took a step backwards and lay back on his berth. He palmed his interface panel, feeling the heat behind it, and then allowed it to slide open. With a delicate touch, he traced the edges of his valve, then rubbed his anterior node. His hips bucked slightly at the touch, even as gentle as it was.

Offlining his optics, Starscream pressed his wings into the berth as his digit picked up speed. He imagined a mech above him, his phantom lover’s arms pinning him down. The Seeker dipped a digit of his other hand into his valve to coat it in his lubrication. 

The last mech he’d taken into his berth had done everything right, from the first conversation at the bar until the strut-shattering overload he’d given Starscream. Yes, everything had been perfect, until the next morning. If Starscream had known how clingy the mech was going to become, he would have kicked him out of his berth immediately after they’d interfaced. Still… Starscream plunged a second digit into his valve, remembering that night. The mech had pushed him down onto the berth, relentlessly devouring every part of the Seeker he could get his lips onto, worshipping every square centimeter of plating and circuitry of Starscream’s frame. 

Starscream moaned as he remembered the fire that the mech had lit within him.

A third digit joined the first two in his valve, and his thumb flicked his node, sending shivery jolts through his array. As his charge rose, Starscream’s other hand clawed around the circumference of his turbines, then scraped against the delicate flanges inside.

Starscream remembered how it had felt to have the other mech over him, running his hands down his wings, before gently scraping his dentae down the plasteel of his canopy. He remembered how the other mech had leaned over him, brushing his lips against Starscream’s audial, and how he had said in a whisper how gorgeous Starscream looked while standing at the bar, and - 

Starscream’s overload came sudden and unexpected in its force, wracking his frame from pede to helm. Starscream arched his back, his dentae biting into his lower lip to keep from crying out, keenly aware of this trinemates in the next room.

When the tremors ceased, Starscream onlined his optics, staring up at the ceiling dimly. He pulled his digits from his valve, grimacing at the slick, damp sound they made. He sat up and fished a cleaning rag from his berthside table to wipe his digits.

Sure. It had been a while.

But Starscream was content to take care of himself.

* * *

“Are there any additional questions?” Starscream glanced around the auditorium. A few more hands shot up, but the coordinator standing in the wings tapped his helm to indicate that Starscream was far past his time. And while it was tempting to keep answering questions on stage, Starscream wanted to keep in the conference’s good graces. “Actually, I’m very sorry… I’m being told that I am out of time. However, you can find me in the lobby if you would like to speak to me there about my research. Thank you for your interest!” 

Starscream basked in the applause for a long moment before being practically pulled off the stage by the coordinator. “That was an excellent presentation, sir,” one of the research students volunteering at the conference told him as he made his way to the lobby. “You’ve actually given me some ideas into the research I’m doing myself.”

“Just make sure you cite your sources correctly, then, and get the glyphs for my designation correct,” Starscream said, then turned to meet the group of conference attendees waiting for him near the auditorium doors.

Starscream was in his element. He spoke with each of the waiting scientists at length, answering their questions in detail. He made note of the trends in their questions, since those tended to be excellent sources for ideas on where to take the next steps in his research.

And it was no wonder his paper had been so well-received. His research into the properties of sub-space wormholes was ground breaking in that no one had taken his particular angle in the research before. Well-done, novel ideas tended to gather the most interest at conferences such as this one.

A few groons passed, and the crowd thinned. Eventually Starscream found only one mech left standing with him in the lobby. “I just wanted to congratulate you on your presentation, Starscream,” he said, his voice thick with an Iaconian accent. The facemasked grounder offered him his arm in greeting. “That’s some really amazing work you’ve done there, and I’m interested to see it in application.”

“Application?” Starscream gripped the grounder’s forearm, then lifted his wings in a questioning motion. “While I’m flattered, I simply don’t see how the work that I’ve done so far can be applied, not just yet.”

“Simple.” The mech rocked back on his pedes and gestured with his hands as he spoke. “It could revolutionize travel across the galaxy, but that’s the easy part. I’ve also got a few ideas on using it in weapons manufacturing.”

Starscream stared at the mech for a moment, then caught himself when he realized his mouth was agape. “Travel? Weapons? …How? And based on what? All there is right now is theory.”

The mech tilted his helm to the side, and his optics twinkled in a grin. “Application’s my thing. My designation’s Wheeljack. I’m an engineer, and I’m attending the conference from the Iacon University of Applied Physics.”

“Ah, yes, I heard that some researchers from your institution were attending the conference here.” Starscream looked at the mech as he spoke. Something about him was very familiar, but he simply couldn’t place him. Perhaps he had seen him at another conference? 

The fins on either side of the grounder’s helm flashed a pale blue. “Anyway, I have a bunch of ideas to utilize your research that I would love to run past you.”

A low fuel warning appeared on Starscream’s HUD. He checked his chronometer and realized it had been almost a full cycle since he’d refueled. “Well… Wheeljack, you said? I’d love to hear what applications you have in mind, but I am in desperate need of some fuel. Would you like to join me in the hotel restaurant?”

“I’d love to!” Wheeljack replied, his optics twinkling again.

They walked to the restaurant, a dimly-lit place with small tables. As they took a seat, Starscream looked at the mech again. His memory still nagged him about the grounder’s appearance. “I’m sorry if I do not remember meeting you previously, but you look very familiar.”

Wheeljack lifted his helm to look at Starscream, then chuckled as he looked back down at the menu. “Yeah, we matched on Sparkr about a vorn ago. Or rather, someone who was pretending to be you?” He glanced at Starscream again. “At least, that’s what they told me.”

Realization bloomed in Starscream’s processor. “Oh. Oh, no.” He covered his optics with a hand. “That was my trinemate. He... He thought I needed a date, so he took it upon himself to try to get me one.” He lowered his hand to look at Wheeljack. “I am so sorry. As soon as I found out what he was doing I told him to stop, and to delete the profile.”

The grounder threw his head back and let out a peal of laughter. “No wonder! I’d read your published papers before, and I just couldn’t reconcile the style of your scientific writing with the way you chatted on the app. I thought that maybe you’d had someone ghost write your papers for you.”

Starscream flicked his wings back. “No! I would never do that. Believe me, it was the other way around.”

Holding up a hand, Wheeljack nodded. “I believe you, especially now that I’ve seen you present. You’re a lot more articulate in person than I was expecting after chatting with the... Err, the counterfeit you.”

Ugh. Starscream resisted flaring his armour in anger, since it would be directed at his trinemate, not Wheeljack. He hoped that this was the only scientist that Skywarp had chatted with, pretending to be him. At least it seemed as if the damage could be contained here. 

Resettling his wings, Starscream sought to change the subject. “So, you were going to tell me about the applications you had in mind for my research.”

Wheeljack turned out to have a wealth of crazy ideas, none of which should be possible... Something that Starscream pointed out. However, Wheeljack seemed to have thought through all the different ways to game the laws of physics to make the applications he’d been dreaming up possible, and Starscream had to admit that he might actually be able to make some of them work.

“All right, fine, I suppose that it is **possible** to use a sub-wormhole to power a portable fusion cannon,” Starscream said, polishing off his energon. “But it would be extremely dangerous. Who in their right mind would use a weapon like that?”

Wheeljack shrugged and sipped the rest of his energon through his straw. “I just think them up. It’s up to other mechs to decide what to do with them.” He looked around and flagged down the bartender. “Did you want a shot of high-grade? Just to cheer your successful presentation. It’s on me.”

Starscream considered the invitation briefly, then nodded. “Thank you. I’d appreciate it.”

When the high-grade arrived, Wheeljack lifted his glass. “To future endeavours. May they be successful!”

“To future endeavours.” Starscream held up his own glass, then knocked back the shot. The high-grade left a pleasant burning sensation as it drained through his intake into his tanks, and Starscream sucked air through his intake after it. “Hoo. That’s strong,” he said.

“Not much of a drinker, huh?” Wheeljack said, the fins on either side of his helm flashing a merry blue. He sucked his shot through his straw and set the empty glass on the table.

Starscream nodded. “I admit I don’t ingest high-grade very often,” he said. “I find it dulls my senses and reaction time too much, and for a flyer that can be fatal. I do have to make it home tonight.”

“Fair enough. I’m gonna have another one, though, since my room’s just upstairs. Did you want something else?” Wheeljack asked.

“Maybe just another cube of energon,” Starscream replied.

When their order arrived, Wheeljack sipped his second drink much slower. “So,” he said, setting the glass on the table. “Tell me about Starscream.”

Starscream suppressed the flutter of his wings at the question. He loved talking about his work; having a willing audience was even better. “Well, you know about my main research focus. After the conference I am going to expand on –“

Wheeljack shook his helm and waved a hand to silence Starscream. “No, not work. You. Tell me about **you**.” He tilted his helm and his fins flashed a pale pink for a moment. “Outside of work. Outside of the lab.”

Sitting back in his seat, Starscream looked at the grounder. This wasn’t the sort of conversation he had been expecting. But Wheeljack seemed genuinely interested, so Starscream considered the question. “Well… I live with my trinemates here in Vos,” he began.

“Trinemates?” Wheeljack said, repeating the word thoughtfully. “So you’re all conjunx together?”

“Oh, no,” Starscream said, shaking his helm. “I’m not... Thank Primus for that.” He rolled his optics. “It’s an old Vosian custom, now mostly only followed by older families. And my family is **very** traditional,” he said with a theatrical blow of his vents. “We simply live together, sharing resources and the like. My other two trinemates are conjunxes, but I am not.”

Wheeljack nodded and sipped his drink. “So what happens if you find someone? You know, permanent like?” he asked.

Startscream shrugged. “If my partner is part of a trine, then the six of us would move in together.” He grimaced. “But I can’t even contemplate an arrangement like that. Some of the flocks in the large families are huge. I knew one that had twenty-one members...” He shuddered delicately. “I have a hard enough time getting my work done with just two trinemates, let alone a flock to bother me.”

Laughing, Wheeljack put down his glass. “Twenty roommates! Primus, I think that would drive anyone insane.” His optics brightened cheerily. “I suppose I should be happy there’s no traditions like that in Iacon.”

“So, your turn,” Starscream said, picking up his cube and smiling at Wheeljack over its edge. To his surprise, he found he was enjoying himself. Wheeljack was very intelligent and friendly, and something about him put Starscream at ease. “Tell me about Wheeljack.”

Wheeljack casually waved his hand. “Oh, you know. I live alone, I spend far too much time in the lab, and my socializing mostly involves drinking with coworkers.” 

A thought occurred to Starscream. “Did you manage to find anyone on that app... What was it called, Sparkr?” he asked.

Shrugging, Wheeljack said, “Just a few hits. I’m not looking for anything permanent... I spend too much time in the lab to make it fair to a partner. But it would be nice to find someone who could straddle that line between casual frag-buddy and sole partner, you know?” 

“Absolutely,” Starscream said. When Wheeljack tilted his helm at him, Starscream added, “I mean... I see the appeal. I spend a lot of time at work myself.” He ran a digit down the side of his empty glass. “Trying to balance my work and a relationship is... difficult.”

“What are you looking for, anyway?” Wheeljack asked curiously.

Starscream thought for a long moment. “Someone intelligent. Someone who understands my interests and who can understand what I’m talking about when I start telling them about my research. Someone who would understand that when I get inspiration, I can’t stop until I’ve worked through it.” He lifted his optics to look at Wheeljack, meeting the grounder’s intense gaze. “What about you?”

“I’d say that sounds remarkably familiar.” Wheeljack narrowed his optics, and Starscream felt as though he was being sized up. “Starscream... Forgive me if this comes across as too forward...”

Starscream’s wings flared out in surprise as he felt Wheeljack’s hand slide onto his knee and give it a squeeze.


	2. Methods

Starscream was not someone who ordinarily did things on a whim. He weighed pros and cons. He considered other options. He **deliberated**. For example, when he was considering switching to another wax, he would get a sample and try it, spot-testing it on different places on his frame to see how it held up compared to his regular brand. Then he considered the price difference against how well he liked the results. Only then would be make a decision on whether to switch to the new wax.

So Starscream was a little surprised at how easy it had been for Wheeljack to talk him into accompanying him up to his hotel room. But to be fair, after Wheeljack had made the offer, Starscream did perform a small analysis of the offer.

 **Con:** Wheeljack was a peer, a fellow scientist. If word about this got around, it might detrimentally affect Starscream’s standing in his field.

 **Mitigating factor:** These professional conventions were known to be a great place to hook up with like-minded peers. In fact, Starscream had heard that hotel staff often hated it when their hotels hosted the conventions, simply because of the disgusting nature of the... ah, “residue” the staff found in the rooms afterwards. So it’s not like no one ended up fragging at these events. It was almost expected.

 **Pro:** Slagging Skywarp had been right after all, although Starscream would never admit it to anyone out loud. It **had** been a long time. And when Wheeljack put his hand on Starscream’s knee, it felt like a shock had cascaded through his struts, creating a thrumming charge that he felt to his core.

Which is how Starscream found himself pinned to the wall in the hotel elevator as Wheeljack ran his hands up and down his sides and pressed his facemask into Starscream’s neck. Starscream was fighting a losing a battle to keep his cooling fans from roaring to life until they got up to Wheeljack’s hotel room. The grounder seemed adept at finding all of the little spots on Starscream’s frame that made him whimper when they were touched. Wheeljack’s nasal ridge traced Starscream’s jawline, and the ridges of his facemask bumped across the ridges of Starscream’s neck cables.

“I don’t think that I’ve –“ Starscream gasped as Wheeljack jammed a digit into one of his hip seams. “I’ve never been with a mech with just a facemask before.”

Wheeljack lifted his helm and looked at Starscream, rubbing this thumb across the jet’s lips, and Starscream’s mouth gaped open in a gasp at the touch. Wheeljack’s optics crinkled up at the corners slightly at that reaction, and he said, “I didn’t always have one. I got the facemask because of a lab accident.” His optics flickered. “There’s some scarring. It sometimes puts mechs off. Once we get up to my room...”

Starscream nodded. To be perfectly honest, he didn’t care whether Wheeljack had a mouth or not. At this point all he wanted was a spike in his valve.

What floor did Wheeljack say he was on, again?

The elevator chimed, and Wheeljack suddenly pulled away from Starscream. Opening his optics, Starscream saw Wheeljack leaning against the elevator wall casually, not looking the least bit frazzled. His cooling fans weren’t even running, not loud enough for Starscream to hear anyway. 

Starscream quickly issued several overrides to shut his own fans down. Surely he wouldn’t burn anything out in just a few more floors. 

Hopefully.

The door slid open, and another grounder got on the elevator. His optics flicked between Starscream and Wheeljack as the door closed. 

“Evening,” Wheeljack said conversationally.

The other grounder nodded. “Good evening.” Then he turned and punched the button for his floor. 

Surely he could smell the faint tang of ozone in the air from the charge that had built up between the other two mechs in the elevator. Or maybe he couldn’t.

Starscream stubbornly issued another override when his cooling fans attempted to turn on.

Against the back wall of the elevator, Wheeljack’s turned his helm slightly and looked at Starscream. His optics were bright, and his helm fins strobed blue before going dark again. Then he winked at Starscream.

Starscream realized Wheeljack was laughing silently.

Leaning back against the elevator wall, Starscream tried to appreciate the humour in the situation. Here he was, riding up in an elevator with another scientist who he had just met, on their way to his hotel room, so they could frag before the end of the conference. He should have been mortified at almost being caught in a compromising position during a professional conference. He should have been irritated at Wheeljack’s cavalier attitude towards their predicament. He should have been annoyed at the interruption to feeling Wheeljack’s hands sliding up and down his plating, drawing up his charge.

He should have been **infuriated** that **Skywarp** had been **right**.

But instead, Starscream felt a smile cross his lips. He ran a quick diagnostic to make sure he was not under the influence of the small amount of high grade he had consumed earlier, but no – he was quite sober. No, this was just a funny situation. He was amused.

Amused, and tremendously turned on.

He issued yet another override to his cooling systems, and ignored the dire warning on his HUD about his core temperature.

The elevator chimed again, and the door slid open. With one last glance between the two mechs standing against the back wall of the elevator, the grounder stepped out of the elevator and the door closed behind him.

“Five more floors,” Wheeljack muttered as he whirled and pushed Starscream up against the wall of the elevator again, his arms bracketing Starscream’s helm and his chest pressing against Starscream’s cockpit. “Then my room’s just a few doors down to the right.” Wheeljack’s digits traced up the leading edge of Starscream’s right wing.

It was all Starscream could do to keep his knees from collapsing. An unseemly noise escaped his vocalizer as Wheeljack dragged his hand all the way to the tip of the wing and pinched the aileron. “W-where did you learn to do that?” Starscream gasped. He released the hold on his fans and they spun up to full speed with a rattling buzz, and he clung to Wheeljack’s shoulders.

“I’ve been with a flyer or two,” Wheeljack said. His helm fins blinked blue again. “Picked up a few tricks here and there.”

Starscream’s helm slammed into the wall of the elevator as Wheeljack’s digit picked at the aileron hinge of his right wing. He moaned and bit his lip hard enough to taste energon as he tried to keep himself from crumpling to the floor of the elevator.

The elevator chimed and stopped.

“This is our stop,” Wheeljack said breathily, and stepped away from Starscream. His hand trailed down Starscream’s arm and he twined their digits together, pulling the Seeker off the elevator.

As promised, Wheeljack’s room was just a few doors down from the elevator. As soon as they’d stepped into the dimly-lit room, Wheeljack tossed his keypass onto a table and turned to face Starscream. “I guess the next question I should be asking is whether you’d prefer to spike or be spiked,” he said, advancing on Starscream again, backing him up against the door. He nuzzled his mask against the side of Starscream’s helm. “Either way works for me.”

“I prefer to be spiked,” Starscream replied. He turned his helm and caught Wheeljack’s chin, turning it slightly towards him. He slid his thumb over the facemask concealing Wheeljack’s mouth. “But you’ve piqued my curiosity with this,” he said.

Wheeljack’s optics narrowed slightly. Then the facemask slid aside. 

Starscream could see why the grounder wore the mask. It was obvious that he’d had reconstruction done, but the area around his mouth was still mangled and scarred. His lower lip was pinched and uneven, while the upper lip was missing a large section. Welds had stitched together part of his upper lip, but the right side of his mouth was twisted as though he had a permanent snarl.

“Like I said. Lab accident,” Wheeljack said quietly. His helm fins flashed green once, twice, then went dark. “I got tired of the stares, so I decided to just cover it up.” His blue optics gleamed in the dim light of the hotel room. “I could put the mask back if it bothers you.”

Still conscious of the heat pouring off of his frame and the feel of the grounder pressing against him, Starscream lifted his hand back to Wheeljack’s face, and traced his thumb over the disfigured lips just as he had done to the face mask. “So long as they work,” he said, “I don’t see why I should be bothered.” Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Wheeljack’s.

The grounder hesitated as the Seeker’s lips touched against his. Starscream could taste the high-grade that Wheeljack had consumed earlier, and he could feel the roughened lines of the welds on Wheeljack’s upper lip. After a moment more of hesitation, Wheeljack’s mouth opened slightly, and Starscream flicked his glossa lightly against his lower lip. 

With a low growl from his engine, Wheeljack put his hands on Starscream’s shoulders and pushed him against the door. He tilted his helm slightly, opening his mouth further and returning Starscream’s kiss with a ferocity that he had not yet shown that evening. 

Starscream grabbed at Wheeljack’s hips, his claws finding and slipping into the gaps in his armor. He plucked at the cables he found in the gaps, drawing a series of revs from Wheeljack’s engine.

The sound was intoxicating.

When Wheeljack finally pulled his mouth from Starscream’s, he looked at the Seeker with bright optics. “You wanted to be spiked, you said,” Wheeljack rumbled. When Starscream nodded, Wheeljack grabbed his hand and dragged him to the berth.

Wheeljack paused only to flick on the light by the berth before gently pushing Starscream down onto the plush surface. Then Wheeljack was straddling Starscream, his face buried in Starscream’s neck. Wheeljack’s lips sucked on the cords of his throat as his hands slid back up the surface of Starscream’s wings.

Yes. Yes! Starscream ran his hands up Wheeljack’s back to cling to his shoulders as the grounder’s weight pressed him into the berth. Wheeljack’s knees made divots in the surface of the berth on either side of Starscream’s hips, bracketing him and effectively immobilizing him.

Starscream’s fans whined as their RPMs maxed out, trying to shed heat from his frame.

Just as Starscream turned his helm to try and catch Wheeljack’s lips with his again, the grounder sat up. Starscream stared up at him as Wheeljack shifted his weight, resettling his knees on the berth. Then Wheeljack leaned forward again, and Starscream was once again covered with the grounder’s weight.

This time he caught Wheeljack’s lips, and he slipped his glossa between his roughened lips. Starscream tried to focus on the texture that the damage lent to the touch, but he was distracted by the way that Wheeljack was stroking the upper surfaces of his wings. Wheeljack’s digits glided from leading edge to trailing and back, leaving the jet a shivering puddle beneath him.

Then, just as Starscream began squirming from the charge building in him from those gentle touches – had any of his previous non-flyer lovers ever lavished such attention on his wings? – the engineer sat up again, and the charge that had been gathering fizzled in a most frustrating way.

“What are you **doing**?” Starscream demanded, reaching up to pull Wheeljack back down onto him again. 

“I’m testing a theory,” Wheeljack said, a smile playing on those damaged lips. He leaned back down on Starscream, his arms on the jet’s shoulders, pushing him down into the berth.

Starscream’s fans whined back to their maximum speed as Wheeljack’s face hovered close to his, their nasal ridges bumping together gently, his lips brushing Starscream’s. Then – Wheeljack sat up again, and his grin grew wider.

“I’m right,” Wheeljack said. He sat straddling Starscream’s hips and gazed down at the jet, still wearing a self-satisfied smile. “You like getting pushed down... Covered like this.” And he laid down, the full weight of his frame pushing Starscream into the bed.

Starscream’s turbines spun, trying to supplement the air movement from his cooling fans. “Yes, I do,” he said, trying to get his vocalizer under control so he didn’t spit static as Wheeljack drew the tip of a digit up to the tip of his right wing. “But you call yourself a scientist?” When Wheeljack looked at him with wide optics, Starscream lifted his chin and shot Wheeljack a challenging look. “You were testing a **hypothesis** , not a theory.”

Wheeljack’s laugh was immediate and genuine, and the fins on either side of his helm blinked a merry blue. “Fine,” Wheeljack said, the brightness of his optics erasing the false sneer that his mangled lips gave him. “You got me. Now,” he said, one hand dipping into the seam between Starscream’s wing and his fuselage until he drew a hiss from the seeker. “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

Wheeljack had said that he had been with other flyers. Within just a few kliks, Starscream was silently praising whoever his previous partners had been. Wheeljack leaned to the right, gripping Starscream’s left wing firmly as he dragged his glossa up the leading edge and then back down. The sensation sent a cascade of sparks through Starscream’s cables, and the wing twitched in the grounder’s grip.

“You like that, huh?” Wheeljack said, shifting his weight to lean the other way. “Let’s see if your other wing is just as sensitive.”

“You know it will be,” Starscream said sharply before rolling his helm backwards as Wheeljack lavished the same attention on his right wing. It had been ages since anyone had paid such attention to each micrometer of his wings. It was simply something you couldn’t do to yourself.

It felt amazing. He could feel every sensor node in his wings lighting up, sending jolts through him every time that Wheeljack’s glossa or digits changed their trajectory. The weight on him pressed him down, making him feel safe, needed, desired. 

Starscream vowed to never mention a word of this to Skywarp. He’d never hear the end of it.

Wheeljack’s hand slid down Starscream’s side, and he looked down into Starscream’s optics. Reaching between his own legs to trace the edge of Starscream’s interface panel, he said, “Are you gonna let me see what I have to work with, here?”

At any other time, Starscream would have been embarrassed at how quickly his panel retracted, but tonight he simply moaned quietly as he felt the grounder slide a digit into his sopping valve.

“Should I see what else gets you going?” Wheeljack whispered in Starscream’s audial. “I could run some basic tests.” The digit inside his valve curled slightly, pressing on the upper wall of his channel and lighting up the sensors embedded there. “Make observations.” His dentae nipped at the curve of Starscream’s jaw. “Form predictions.” His thumb flicked against Starscream’s anterior node, and the jet’s hips bucked upwards into Wheeljack’s hand. “Repeat the tests.” A second digit slid into Starscream’s valve, and they both pressed into the sensor-rich wall, eliciting a keen from the Seeker. “And then, after my analysis of the test results, I can share my results with you.” He leaned down at suckled on a cable at Starscream’s throat.

Starscream’s turbines screamed as he arched upwards into Wheeljack. His digits dug into the gaps in Wheeljack’s shoulder armor, his claws skating over the tires hidden within as he tried to pull the grounder down onto him harder. “Yes,” he gasped. “ **That** is the proper scientific method.”

Wheeljack nibbled his way up Starscream’s jaw to his mouth, clamping down on it in another deep kiss. Then he smiled down at Starscream and said, “Then let’s get started with the first test, shall we?” With that he slid away, kissing down Starscream’s chest, over his canopy, and across his abdominal plating, until Starscream could feel Wheeljack’s hot ventilations on his exposed array.

Starscream spread his legs in anticipation, bracing his thrusters on the surface of the berth, waiting for that first touch. And waited... and waited... Finally he nudged Wheeljack with his pede. “What are you waiting for?” Starscream said. He did **not** whine, and he would refute any claim that he did. Starscream raised his helm, but all he could see around his canopy were the tips of Wheeljack’s fins. “Get on with it!”

Wheeljack’s low laugh sent a thrill up Starscream’s spinal column. “Just observing what your reaction is to delayed stimulation,” Wheeljack said. His digits pulled at the mesh on either side of Starscream’s valve. 

“I’ll show you delayed –“ Starscream’s complaint was cut off with a squeal when something warm and wet flicked his anterior node playfully. His hips jerked upwards. “Again!” he demanded. He’d been kept waiting far too long.

“Just checking out what I’m working with here,” Wheeljack said. Starscream felt himself pulled wide open. “And it turns out... it’s beautiful.” A shudder of charge ran through Starscream’s lines at Wheeljack’s words, then he moaned quietly as he felt Wheeljack’s glossa skate around the edges of his valve. 

Starscream’s helm fell back onto the berth as Wheeljack began assaulting his valve. Digits stretched and pulled at the mesh surrounding his opening, and dentae gently nipped at the folds. Wheeljack’s glossa slowly made its way back to his node, flicking it a few times before he wrapped his lips around it and suckled.

A garbled noise erupted from Starscream’s vocalizer as charge zinged through his frame. He arched his back and his hands scrabbled at the berth covers as he sought to both press his node more firmly against Wheeljack’s mouth, and to escape from it.

Another low laugh vibrated through his interface array, sending another burst of charge through him. Wheeljack’s mouth retreated from his node to renew its attention on the sides of his valve, with only his nasal ridge bumping Starscream’s node at irregular intervals. Each lick and nudge and nip sent his charge spiralling upwards again, until Starscream was writhing on the berth, trying to nudge Wheeljack’s mouth just there, just where he needed the attention, just away from that bit that was getting too much, just back to his node, just away from his node, yes, just there, **just there, _just there_**...

Starscream’s overload slammed through him as if he’d stuck his digits into a power socket. His frame spasmed, every joint locking as his frame trembled and his processor went blank in a wave of pleasure and ecstasy.

He was dimly aware of Wheeljack slowly, soothingly rubbing the insides of his thighs as his breakers reset. When Wheeljack spoke, Starscream had to concentrate to focus on the words. “So that was good for you, I take it?” Wheeljack asked, the smile audible in his voice. “I’ve never been kicked in the helm by a thruster before.”

“Yes?” Starscream replied faintly, unsure when his optics had gone offline. He opened them again, staring up at the ceiling in a daze as he tried to parse Wheeljack’s words. “What?”

Then he realized that his legs were wrapped firmly around Wheeljack’s helm, clasping the engineer’s helm so that his face remained tightly pressed against his array. 

“Oh!” Starscream let go of Wheeljack’s helm and dropped his thrusters to the surface of the berth. He sat up on his elbows, craning his neck to see if there was any damage to the back of Wheeljack’s helm. Wonderful. Just what he needed: a reputation for kicking berth partners in the helm. “I was just... You were...” When he realized that Wheeljack was smiling, his chin, nasal ridge, and damaged lips glistening with lubricant, Starscream relaxed slightly. “I didn’t hurt you, did?” he asked.

“Nah,” Wheeljack said, crawling up the berth to lie next to Starscream. He dragged his hand up Starscream’s fuselage, lightly stroking over his abdomen and canopy before letting it come to rest on the base of Starscream’s throat. “I’m just gonna take that reaction as a compliment to my skills... And add it as a data point in my research.” 

Starscream huffed a laugh. He could feel the heat radiating off of Wheeljack’s frame, and the grounder’s engine was running at a higher pitch than it had just a little while earlier. And against his leg, he could feel the warmth and firmness of a pressurized spike. “It is a well-deserved compliment, to be sure,” Starscream said. He shifted, nudging and tugging at Wheeljack, trying to encourage him to lie on top of him rather than next to him. He hooked a thruster around the engineer’s lower leg, pulling it across his own. “And now that you have some initial data, what will your next test be?”

Wheeljack’s grin had only grown as Starscream wriggled next to him. “I’m thinking that you have a suggestion already in mind,” he said. With a smooth motion, he rolled, spreading Starscream’s legs with his hands and slotting himself in between them. He supported himself on his elbows so that his face was just centimeters above Starscream’s, and brushed his nasal ridge on Starscream’s cheek. “I wouldn’t mind a little collaboration on this next experiment, if you have any suggestions.”

Starscream felt something thick slide through the folds of his valve, making an obscenely wet sound as it did. He gasped as it brushed against his anterior node, and whined as it slid away again. “Of course,” Starscream said when he had control of his vocalizer. “My suggestion is to use that tool you’re teasing me with for what it’s intended for.”

Like before, Wheeljack’s laugh was spark-felt and genuine. “All right, fair’s fair,” he said. “Although now I’ve learned that you don’t like being teased.” And then he slowly began pushing his spike through Starscream’s soaking folds and into his valve.

It was difficult for Starscream to think, what with Wheeljack nibbling at the edge of his jawline, up and down, while his spike slid into him at what was apparently a millimeter at a time. With each small movement inwards, the soft ridges on Wheeljack’s spike rubbed against Starscream’s anterior node, causing him to gasp each time one bumped past. “No, I am not a fa- **ah**! A **fan** of being teased,” Starscream panted. “But when the teasing ends like this, I... **Oh!** I think I can forgi- **ih! Ah!** Forgive it!” 

He hadn’t gotten a look at Wheeljack’s spike, and it had felt normal-sized when it was resting against his leg. But for some reason, the slow slide of the spike into his valve seemed to light up every node and sensor it touched, in a way that his previous lovers had not managed to do. Maybe it was because his array was still primed after the intense overload that Wheeljack had just given him.

Whatever the reason, by the time Wheeljack was finally fully hilted inside his valve, Starscream was already teetering on the edge of another overload. His valve calipers fluttered as if trying to provoke the spike inside him into moving. That, combined with the feeling of fullness inside of him and the weight of Wheeljack on top of him, led Starscream to let out a quiet moan before he could bite back the oath. “Oh, sweet Primus.” 

Wheeljack paused there, his own ventilations gone ragged and his engine revving erratically. “I need one more bit of information before we complete this test,” he said, his voice low with need. Wheeljack’s optics had gone a dark midnight blue as he looked into Starscream’s, and his mangled lips twitched as he wavered between smiling and concentration. “Hard and fast,” he said, “or soft and slow? Either way, I don’t think I’m gonna last long, so I’ll do whatever’s best for you.”

Starscream bit his lower lip to suppress the whimper that rose in his vocalizer as the hard root of Wheeljack’s spike housing ground against his anterior node, and thought quickly. He loved it when he was taken slowly, almost reverently, like he was a fine sample of high-grade to be savoured. But the overload he’d had just a few kliks before, along with the slow slide of Wheeljack’s hard spike into him, had reduced him to near incoherency. 

Now he just wanted to be claimed.

“Tonight?” Starscream said, lifting a hand to grip one of Wheeljack’s helm fins. He distantly noted that the action caused a squeal to whine from the grounder’s engine, and the fin flashed a lurid purple. “I want it hard and fast.” He smirked a little when he felt Wheeljack’s spike twitch inside him at his words. “Show me what you’ve been teasing me for. Show me what you’re capable of, since I’m making my own observations.”

Wheeljack’s lips curled into a properly feral grin, and then pushed himself up, rising slightly on his knees. “That’s the sort of requirements that I like to hear,” he said before grabbing Starscream’s hips and lifting his aft off of the berth.

It was all Starscream could do to not shriek at the sensations that overcame him as Wheeljack began thrusting, pistoning his spike in and out of him. With each thrust, Starscream slid up the berth, until he felt first the tips of his wings and then his helm pressing against the headboard of the berth. He scrabbled at Wheeljack, trying to find purchase on the grounder to pull himself back, but before he was smashed against the headboard, Wheeljack paused, pulled him back down the berth, and started rutting into him all over again.

His HUD was littered with heat warnings and minor frame damage notifications, but all Starscream could focus on was the thrust and pull of the spike in his valve. His charge, which had faded to a faint thrum after his first overload, began ratcheting up once more, rising higher and higher with every plunge of that delightful spike into him. 

Then Wheeljack dropped Starscream’s hips and braced himself on his arms. “Let’s put all of what we’ve learned into practice,” he growled, each word punctuated with a thrust. “You like being covered.” He lowered himself so that his chest plate scraped against the plasteel of Starscream’s canopy with every movement of his lower body, and Starscream arched upwards into him, encouraging the rough treatment. “And you liked being kissed earlier,” Wheeljack said, bringing his lips down against Starscream’s in a hard kiss, their mouths clashing together in a tangle of dentae and glossa.

All Starscream could do, all he could manage while his processor was being muddied by the sensations cascading through his sensornet, was wrap his legs around Wheeljack’s aft and wind his arms around his shoulders. He closed his optics, surrendering himself to all that the grounder was doing to him. He felt the crest of his second overload approaching, and tried to call Wheeljack’s designation, tried to tell him that he was about to fall over that edge, but all that emerged from his vocalizer was a garbled bleat of noise.

And then Wheeljack pulled his lips from Starscream’s, and bent his helm so that his mouth was beside Starscream’s audial. “And one more thing,” Wheeljack said, his own voice tinged with feedback. “Your research was the most ground-breaking I’ve seen the whole conference.”

Starscream was sure that he would have been embarrassed by the sound he made as his charge peaked and his systems locked up, if he hadn’t been so utterly swept away in the ecstasy of his release. As his frame shuddered and his valve cycled down on the spike inside it, Starscream was conscious of Wheeljack grunting above him, his thrusts becoming short and erratic, but his focus was drawn back to the waves of pleasure washing over him. Starscream hung as tightly as he could onto the hot frame covering him, afraid it would be ripped away before he regained control over his sensory input.

A heavy weight was pressing him into the berth. He felt lips brush against the cords of his neck, and he shivered as a hand lightly stroked against the broad swath of his wing plating. Starscream blearily opened his optics, and lifted a shaking hand to stroke the back of Wheeljack’s helm. “So,” he murmured. “What are your conclusions?”

Wheeljack lifted his lips from Starscream’s throat, and smiled down at him. “What?” he asked. “Aside from your research being brilliant?”

“Well, that’s a given,” Starscream scoffed. He paused as Wheeljack laughed quietly and rolled off of him, briefly mourning the loss as he felt Wheeljack’s softening spike slip out of his valve. “I meant to your experimentation.”

Wheeljack hummed thoughtfully, his hand still stroking down Starscream’s plating soothingly. It felt nice; Starscream was sure that he could drift off into recharge without much difficulty if the grounder kept that up. “Well, I found the tests to have fairly satisfactory results,” he said. “I know that I enjoyed myself, and it sounded as if you did as well.” Wheeljack’s hand stopped its movement for a moment, and he focused his optics on Starscream’s. “Did you?”

“I did,” Starscream said. He lifted his hand to Wheeljack’s face, and traced the edges of the grounder’s broken lips with his thumb once more. “Thank you for an amazing evening.”

Wheeljack caught Starscream’s wrist in his hand and turned his helm slightly, pressing those lips against Starscream’s palm. “Thank you as well,” he said. He dropped Starscream’s hand and propped his helm up on his other hand. “But the evening doesn’t have to be over. This is an awfully large berth for one mech.” Wheeljack gestured around. “And the room’s really nice. I wouldn’t mind at all if you wanted to spend the rest of the night here.” He leaned close to Starscream again, his optics glowing brightly. “We could even conduct a repeat of our experiment a bit later, to see if we achieve the same results.” 

Starscream considered Wheeljack’s offer. It was tempting: the two overloads he’d had that night were the best he’d had in vorn. That, and it had just dawned on Starscream that he had only taken, and given nothing in return. He didn’t want to have a reputation of being a selfish lover. On the other hand, the satisfied smile on Wheeljack’s lips told Starscream that maybe the engineer was quite happy with how the evening had turned out.

However, Starscream knew that spending the night would not be advised.

Starscream shook his helm regretfully. “While I would absolutely love to stay,” he said, “I am scheduled for a discussion panel first thing in the morning, and all of my materials for it are at home. That, and I do need some proper recharge so I don’t drift off during the discussion.” Starscream rolled onto his own side, flicking his wings out behind him and mirroring Wheeljack’s position, his helm propped up on his hand. “But you might be interested in the panel,” he said, smiling. “It’s on the theoretical opportunities and dangers of dark energon... and whether it exists at all. Then I’m free after the panel, so we could meet for fuel. I’d love to bounce my ideas regarding subspace tethering off of you, and –“

Wheeljack was already shaking his own helm. “I can’t. The transport back to Iacon leaves in the morning.” He smoothed his hand down the side of Starscream’s cockpit again, then let it rest on the jet’s hip. “And if you can’t stay the night – which I totally understand - I guess we’ll just have to leave it here for now.”

For a moment, Starscream wavered, and his processor plotted. Maybe he could swing it after all. He could stay the night, show Wheeljack what he was capable of doing with his own glossa, and try to get a few hours of recharge before the panel. Then he could comm Thundercracker in the morning and ask him to bring his notes to the conference centre, and make it downstairs just in time for the panel. He would be tired, to be sure, but he’d have his notes, make an appearance at his discussion panel, and still spent the rest of the night laying in Wheeljack’s arms.

It had been so long since anyone had made him feel so needed, so desired, and so safe at the same time. 

Then again, it wasn’t as if Starscream had been actively looking for that. Instead, it had found him.

But Wheeljack was already sitting up and reaching for the comm pad on the side table. “If you want to wash up a bit before you head home, you can use the washrack here,” he said. He looked at Starscream’s thighs pointedly, and grinned. “I’m afraid we might have made a bit of a mess down there.”

Starscream looked down his frame, and saw his pelvic skirting and thighs were smeared with liquid. It had drooled out of his valve while they’d talked, and he was lying in a small pool of it on the berth. He could feel it seeping into the gaps in his legs and aft the longer he lay there, and he knew that in a little while it would turn into a sticky, gummy mess as it dried.

“I believe that most of this mess is yours,” Starscream said with a sniff and a smile, and rolled off of the berth. His valve was sore, and he knew he would be feeling the effects of their activities in the morning. “I won’t be a minute,” he murmured, and walked as gracefully as he could manage into the washrack.

In the bright lights of the rack, Starscream looked at himself in the mirror. One look told him that, yes, it was right to decline Wheeljack’s offer to stay. Aside from the lubricant and transfluid that decorated his lower half, Starscream was covered in scratches and paint transfers from shoulders to knees. It would require at least a groon to buff out the damage to his finish, and his paint would need to be touched up. And if he was doing all that, he might as well give himself a wax and polish. 

It simply wouldn’t do to attend the panel looking like shareware. 

Starscream wiped himself down quickly, noting the time and calculating how long it would take to fly home from the hotel. If he got home, showered and took care of his plating right away, he should still get enough recharge to be alert tomorrow, and make it back to the hotel in time for the panel.

Yes, the overloads had been delightful. But work came first.

When Starscream emerged from the washrack, Wheeljack was standing in the middle of the room. Starscream noted that the grounder was also covered in smears of fluids and paint transfers, but he didn’t seem to mind. Wheeljack held up his comm pad. “I’ll give you my comm code,” he said. “So we can keep in touch. Then if I’m ever back in Vos, or you come out to Iacon, we can meet up again.” For the first time that evening, Wheeljack looked shy. “If you’d like to, that is.”

Reaching into his compartments, Starscream drew out his own comm pad and touched it to Wheeljack’s. It chimed as the pads exchanged data, and Starscream glanced at his pad’s screen to confirm acceptance of Wheeljack’s code. “Of course I’d like to,” he said, putting his pad away again. He stepped close to Wheeljack, and put his arms around his shoulders. “After all... The best experiments are the ones you can repeat.”

Wheeljack’s helm fins flashed blue before lifting his mouth to Starscream’s for a deep kiss. Starscream moaned softly as Wheeljack’s glossa flicked against his lower lip. “I’m looking forward to it,” Wheeljack murmured.

They finished their goodbyes, and within a few kliks Starscream had descended to the lobby, made his way outside, and launched himself into the night sky. 

He felt... Good. Relaxed. Satisfied. He felt happy.

Fragging Skywarp had been right after all, but Starscream couldn’t even find it in himself to be upset.

He was only a few kliks from home when he received a comm message from Wheeljack. He answered it immediately. ::Wheeljack! It’s been ages.::

Wheeljack’s laugh was just as genuine over the comm as it had been in person. ::I just wanted to let you know that I was able to rearrange my flight for an afternoon departure. I’ll be late getting back to work, but they’ll just have to deal with it. So I’ll be able to make it to your panel, and we can have that conversation you wanted about subspace tethering afterwards.:: Wheeljack paused. ::But I’ve got to check out of my room, so no repeats of tonight. Not tomorrow, anyway.::

Starscream wiggled his wings at the thought of being able to spend a bit more time with the engineer. ::That’s wonderful, Wheeljack! I am looking forward to seeing you. And room or no room... I genuinely enjoyed our conversations this evening.::

::Me too, Starscream. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.:: With that, Wheeljack closed the comm line.

Starscream flew evenly for a moment as he let the conversation sink in. Then, with a flick of his wings, he did a barrel roll of sheer joy under the light of the moons.


	3. Results

Skywarp instinctively turned the volume down on the entertainment unit as soon as Starscream came into the room. The last thing he wanted to do this morning was defend his show against Starscream’s arrogant comments about how it was a show for sparklings.

Well, it **was** a show for sparklings, but that wasn’t the point. It was a **good** show, with interesting characters and fun plots! This season even seemed to be building to a big finale that Skywarp was really looking forward to. Starscream just couldn’t see past the target audience of the show, and Skywarp was tired of having to justify watching it.

But this morning, Starscream didn’t seem to notice the show at all. Instead, he simply walked through the room without even a glance at the screen, and made his way towards the kitchen. No, wait... He wasn’t walking. He was **sauntering**. Waltzing, even. And...

Skywarp looked at Thundercracker. “Is Star... **humming**?” he asked quietly.

Thundercracker looked up from his novel and watched as Starscream slipped into the kitchen. “It sure sounded like it,” he replied, quirking a brow ridge at Skywarp.

After giving Thundercracker another sidelong glance, Skywarp rose from the couch and followed Starscream into the kitchen. He leaned on the doorframe and watched as Starscream poured out a measure of energon and added his favourite shavings to it. Sure enough, Starscream was humming a jaunty tune. He was humming very quietly, but still humming. “So,” Skywarp said as casually as he could manage. “How did your presentation at the conference go?” 

Starscream looked at Skywarp, his wings tipping upwards in surprise. “You remembered I had a presentation?” he asked. “I didn’t think you paid any attention to my research.”

“Of course I remembered!” Skywarp said indignantly, flaring out his own wings. “You’ve been working on that research for over a vorn, **and** you’ve been agonizing over the presentation for a whole orbital cycle. You’re trine. If you care, I care.” Granted, Skywarp had no idea **what** the research was about; that part had gone in one audial, and left no trace as it left via the other. But Starscream had been working with single-minded purpose for so long, Skywarp couldn’t help but notice his effort.

“Well... Thank you for asking,” Starscream said, giving Skywarp a genuine smile. “My presentation was very well received, and garnered many new contacts and avenues for further research.” His wings fluttered behind him as he sipped at his energon. “I can’t wait to delve into the new ideas that I discussed with my peers yesterday.”

Skywarp strolled into the kitchen and grabbed a rust stick from the container on the counter. “You must have had some really good discussions,” he said, munching on the stick. “You got in pretty late last night.”

Starscream’s hand froze as he was lifting this cube to his mouth again. It was just for a moment, but he stared at Skywarp with wide optics before recovering and taking another sip. “Did I wake you?” he asked, projecting innocence. “My apologies. I was trying to be quiet.”

Skywarp shrugged, hiding his grin by turning to grab another rust stick. “Don’t worry about it,” Skywarp said. “I wasn’t quite into recharge yet when you came in.” Which meant that not only had Skywarp heard Starscream come in, but he’d heard him spend at least a groon in the washrack. And this morning, Starscream’s paint was immaculate; he’d obviously done a touch-up and a full wax. Skywarp schooled his expression before turning around. “So did you get caught up in some scientific argument or something that kept you out so late?” he asked.

Shaking his helm, Starscream knocked back the rest of his fuel and grabbed the data pads he’d left sitting on the counter. “No,” he said. “I just... I just lost track of time while discussing the scientific method with a colleague.” He shrugged casually.

Skywarp narrowed his optics as he watched Starscream walk out of the kitchen. That sounded like a perfectly boring topic of conversation, but Starscream had a coy smile on his face when he mentioned it. Skywarp followed Starscream out into the living room. “Where are you off to now?” he asked.

“I have a discussion panel this morning, and a meeting with a colleague after that. But I shouldn’t be out nearly as late tonight,” Starscream said, pausing at the door to the balcony. He glanced back at Skywarp and Thundercracker, giving them a satisfied smile. “I’ll see you when I get home.” With that, he stepped out onto the balcony, fired his thrusters, and then transformed before jetting away with a roar of his engines.

Skywarp collapsed onto the couch next to Thundercracker. He looked at his conjunx, and then grinned. “He totally got fragged,” Skywarp said.

Nodding, Thundercracker said, “He absolutely did.” Then he gave Skywarp a stern look. “Not that it’s any of our business,” he said firmly.

“Of course not!” Skywarp said innocently. “But I can still be happy for him.” As Thundercracker rolled his optics, Skywarp turned the volume up on his show once more.

* * *

“Wheeljack! You’re back! How was the conference?”

Glancing up from his data pad, Wheeljack flashed his helm fins a cheery blue at Skyfire as the shuttleformer entered the office. “Really good! I’m telling you – you should have come to this one. They’re always a good time. And since this one was in Vos, you probably would have run into some of your old colleagues,” Wheeljack said.

Skyfire shrugged as he settled into the chair at his desk. “Yeah, probably,” he said. “And I wanted to go! I wish the timing hadn’t been so poor.” He smiled lopsidedly at Wheeljack. “They just had to schedule it during the occlusion of Vega Minor. If I missed that, it would have been another seventy-two vorn before it happened again, and I didn’t want to delay my research any further.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just a shame.” Wheeljack sipped at his morning fuel, and smirked at Skyfire over the rim of his cube. “You missed some really good presentations, and some excellent ‘networking’ afterwards.”

Skyfire laughed knowingly. “Again? I always seem to miss out on the best conferences for hookups like that. Maybe I’m just bad luck.”

Shrugging, Wheeljack said, “I don’t know about that. I got a chance to put those tips you gave me about flight-frame wings to good use.” He flashed his fins a deep, lurid purple.

Skyfire ducked his helm slightly as his faceplates flushed slightly, but he grinned good-naturedly. “I’m glad to hear that,” Skyfire said, finally meeting Wheeljack’s gaze after he’d recovered. He focused on the cube in Wheeljack’s hand. "Fuel. I knew I was forgetting something this morning,” Skyfire added, and rose from his chair to pull a cube of energon from the dispenser. 

As he watched Skyfire measure out a cube for himself, Wheeljack silently bemoaned the fact that they weren’t looking for the same thing in a relationship. The shuttleformer was a monster in the berth – literally and figuratively – and had blown Wheeljack’s breakers in a most satisfying manner on several occasions when they’d chosen to burn off some charge together. However, Skyfire was looking for something more permanent and exclusive than Wheeljack was interested in, so their regular trysts had come to an end about a vorn ago. 

Which wasn’t to say that they didn’t still get drunk together and frag once in a while. It just wasn’t as often as Wheeljack would have preferred.

“So which was better?” Skyfire asked over his shoulder as he took his cube out of the dispenser and started mixing flavourings into it. “The presentations or the ‘facing?”

Wheeljack stretched in his chair, unapologetically admiring the sweep of Skyfire’s wings and the curve of his aft. “Actually, it just so happened that the best presentation I saw was done by the same mech I hooked up with,” he said. “Really sharp Seeker. I think you’d like him. Starscream’s presentation was about –“

With a clatter of plexglass against the countertop, Skyfire dropped his fuel cube. He spun around, staring at Wheeljack with wide optics and his wings hitched up as high as they could go. “Did you... Did you say **Starscream**?” he asked, his vocalizer glitching slightly.

“Yeah,” Wheeljack said, frowning slightly behind his facemask. “Starscream. Department of Quantum Physics, University of Vos. He did a really interesting presentation about sub-space wormholes, which I realized could have several different applications. So I stayed behind to talk to him after his presentation, and then we went to the bar together, and then –“ He paused, trying to analyze the expression on Skyfire’s face as the shuttleformer continued to stare at him. Skyfire didn’t look angry or upset in any way, just... Surprised. “And then we went up to my room. And we fragged.” He tipped his helm to the side. “So I take it you know him?” he asked, lighting his helm fins a soothing pink.

Skyfire cycled his optics, then nodded. “I... yeah.” Finally he laughed, and the tightness that had formed around Wheeljack’s spark loosened. Skyfire turned back around and grabbed a cloth to mop up the spilled fuel. “Sorry. I just didn’t expect to hear that Starscream was who you hooked up with.” 

“How do you know him?” Wheeljack asked, and took a drink from his own cube as Skyfire refilled his.

Skyfire turned to face Wheeljack again, and leaned against the counter. “We were in university together. I... I kind of had a thing for him.” Skyfire shrugged and took a sip of his fuel. “But the classes were really hard, and no one had much time for socializing. I mean, a few mechs did, but Starscream seemed utterly focused on school. We never, ever saw him at the bar or in the Commons with anyone. He was always studying, or in the lab. A few mechs asked him out, and he shot them down ruthlessly. So I never even tried.” Skyfire swirled the fuel around in his cube, his optics going distant. “I always liked how he looked when he walked.”

Wheeljack thought back to his discovery of how much Starscream liked to be covered, and doted on. Then he remembered how Skyfire’s bulk looming over him in the berth had felt. Primus, if ever there were two mechs made for each other... “It’s a shame you never asked him out, I think,” Wheeljack said. He grinned at Skyfire’s wide-opticked look. “I think the two of you would be pretty compatible. And we’re discussing doing a collaboration using his research in the coming vorn, so he’ll be here off and on. Maybe you could try asking him out when he’s visiting.” 

Already shaking his helm, Skyfire said, “No, I could never do that. I mean, he’s with you now, and –“ 

Wheeljack cut Skyfire off with a gesture of his hand. “Come on, ‘Fire. You know I like keeping my options open, so I’m not the jealous type. And Starscream knows that too. It’s not like either of us proposed or anything.” When Skyfire seemed to relax a little, Wheeljack blinked his helm fins blue again and smiled behind his mask. “But you never know... He might be looking for something a little more permanent. You’ll never know until you ask.” He leaned forward in his chair and dropped his voice into a conspiratorial tone. “Besides... You should have seen the way he just melted when I licked the leading edge of his wings, like you showed me.”

Skyfire’s face flushed again, and he ducked his helm once more. Wheeljack thought it was criminal how adorable a mech as large as Skyfire could be. Finally, with a slightly quiver of his large, flat wings, Skyfire lifted his helm and smiled at Wheeljack. “We’ll see,” he said finally. “I don’t remember him paying any attention to me when we were in school. I don’t think his tastes will have changed.”

“Maybe he was just focused on his schoolwork, like you said,” Wheeljack said with a shrug. He sucked the last of his fuel through his straw, and smiled at Skyfire again. “And you’ll never know what results you’ll get if you never perform the experiment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *makes vague comments about a potential sequel to this one* ^.^

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this fic, please consider sharing it on [Tumblr](https://pipermca.tumblr.com/post/184747601962/peer-review), [Twitter](https://twitter.com/pipermca/status/1126284452429275137), or [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/697372)!


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